


lovesick boys will write you lovesongs

by narryblossom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Making Up, Past Relationship(s), Pining, This Town AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narryblossom/pseuds/narryblossom
Summary: When Niall walks through the gate at Dublin Airport at four in the morning, jet lagged to hell and back, he feels like he’s home. He thinks he’s never felt so happy to hear an Irish accent, and he certainly has never been so happy to have no fucking clue what he’s doing.(Well, he has some idea of what he’s doing, he just isn’t sure it’s going to work out the way it does in his head.)(An AU where Niall dreams of his lost love and finds himself going home to search for him.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> story based on "this town," title from ["lovesick boys."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JmL6Z6AiRA)

A head of shiny, brown, curly hair is tucked into Niall’s shoulder; his arm draws the owner in closer by their waist as he looks down at them, pecking a chaste kiss to the top of their head. The two of them are looking at the sunset behind the trees and the kids playing footie in the distance, watching the sky as it turns from shades of blue and gray to ones of pink and yellow. As the sun dips lower, so does Harry, leaning further and further down so that his hair tickles Niall’s chin, and his cheek rubs against Niall’s chest.

When Harry finally turns his head to gaze up at Niall after the sun has gone down and dusk has surrounded them, Niall smiles. He’s sure that anyone passing by them has the better view of Harry, but he’s also sure of the fact that no one gets to hold him like this.

“Niall,” someone calls from across the garden, breaking the pair apart before Niall can duck down and catch Harry’s lips, “we’re gonna head home.”

“Not me,” Niall shouts back from his seat on the bench, keeping Harry against his side despite his attempts to wriggle away, “we’ll be a bit longer.”

The soft pout on Harry’s mouth worries him a little--he knows that Harry is afraid to act like a couple around Niall’s friends, but Niall can’t think of anything he wants more than to be with Harry and let everybody know he’s his.

And then Harry’s whispering “are we dating?” with his nose pressed into Niall’s cheek, and Niall’s pretty sure he can feel a blush creep all the way down to his toes.

“Huh?” he asks, turning his head to look at Harry, losing the contact of his nose (and almost his lips) against his cheek.

“I was just wondering,” Harry’s cheeks flush in contagion to Niall’s. “I’ve been telling my mom about you but I dunno what to call you…” his voice trails off, face turning shyly back towards the garden around them.

“Well,” Niall stammers, keeping his eyes locked on Harry no matter where the other looks, “If you wanna, I’d like to...”

Harry looks at Niall again, eyes somehow wider and greener than usual, watching him with all the curiosity of a child, but all the longing of a heartbroken teen.

“Can we?” he whispers as he turns his body towards Niall, linking his arms around the other’s thin torso.

Niall nods, his bright blond, shaggy fringe bouncing in front of his eyes as Harry’s lips come closer, puckered in a soft pout. They’re just about to kiss, lips centimeters apart from having one of the first experiences of their lives together, and then…

Niall wakes up.

And he’s not 16 anymore, he’s 23, and Harry is not tucked into his side.

This isn’t how he imagined he would wake up today--the night before, he was sure he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep, but here he is, well-rested and longing for someone he hasn’t seen in years.

_ It’s unfair, _ he thinks as he rubs his eyes and groans while stretching the sleep out of his body.  _ Harry probably hasn’t thought of me in years.  _ I _ haven’t thought of  _ Harry _ in years. What the fuck was that dream about? _

Niall tries to postpone peeling away the warm, white blankets in his bed and exposing himself to the chill of the conditioned air of his too fancy, too  _ plain _ LA home, but after only a few minutes he’s forced to get up to answer the door when his manager comes knocking.

“We’ve got to be at Capitol in half an hour, mate. Go shower, you stink.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Niall chuckles, turning away from the door, leaving his manager to let himself in and close up behind.

“Why don’t you do somethin’ useful and make me some breakfast?” Niall teases as he shuffles down the hall, not to his bedroom, but to the spare that he uses as a closet instead. He hears half a chuckle and a scoff behind him as he goes, and he smiles to himself.

After Niall has showered and changed into something casual but appropriate for his day’s agenda, he actually does find breakfast sitting on the counter waiting for him when he reemerges. It sits in a clear, reusable bottle in the form of a bright purple smoothie.

“You’re off your game when you don’t eat in the morning, Horan, but we’ve gotta go or we’re gonna be late.”

“Should I bring my guitar,” he asks after taking a swig of the smoothie with one foot out the door.

“If they want you to play something, they’ll give you a guitar. I don’t think bringing a scruffy Taylor from when you were 16 is gonna impress them much.”

Niall says nothing as he takes another drink of his smoothie on the way to the car, but his mind is racing right back to Harry. The Taylor acoustic his manager mentioned, the one Niall has clearly used more than any other in his collection, was a gift from Harry before his first official gig when he was 16. It wasn’t a big show, and it wasn’t like the guitar was brand new or unlike anything Niall had ever seen before, but it was from  _ Harry _ and that meant everything to him at the time. Because it meant to so much to him when he was younger, he played it often, and it easily became his go-to. He doesn’t think of Harry much anymore (‘least not before the dream he’s just had), but the guitar still means a lot to him.

Niall thinks about Harry the whole ride to Capitol because of the mention of the guitar and because of the dream he had, and as much as he wants to deny it, Harry is on his mind during Niall’s meeting at Capitol as well.

He doesn’t completely ignore what the managers and producers are saying to him though, but thinking about Harry instead of the next five years of his career seems much less nerve-wracking. Harry with his baby fat and silly fashion sense and dimples had never scared Niall and never will, he thinks, but he’s been absolutely shitting himself thinking about all the ways he could fuck up his potential career and get shunned from doing what he loves most.

“We’ve been very impressed with you thus far, Mr. Horan,” one of the men across the table from him says, finally piquing his attention, “we think signing with our company can improve you even further.”

“What instruments do you play?” another asks, to which Niall (almost too quickly) responds,

“Guitar,” and then he stammers, “and piano lately, and a bit of drums, but I can learn to play anything you can teach me.”

This makes them chuckle; whether it’s incredulous or not, Niall doesn’t know, but the men around him have seemed nice at every turn thus far, so he hopes they’re laughing  _ with _ him instead of  _ at _ him.

“We’re definitely interested in signing you,” another one of them closes after prying at Niall to find out his aspirations and reasons behind making music. “We think you’re going to fit in well here. You should be hearing back from us within a couple of weeks--no later than two.”

(While he’s leaving, his manager sighs. “There was something off about you, Horan, but your talent really spoke for you this time. I guess a smoothie isn’t a good breakfast for you? I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Niall is too embarrassed to say he was thinking about Harry the whole time, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

_ What’s Harry up to? Does he still live in Ireland, or did he go home when everyone told him Niall had left Mullingar? How’s his mum and his sister Gemma, and how’s  _ he, _ and what does he look like now? _

Niall thinks he’ll find out for himself.)

x

When Niall walks through the gate at LAX with his suitcase and his passport in hand, there isn’t much his manager can say to stop him. He plans on getting on whatever plane is going anywhere near Ireland, and lucky for him, one’s departing for Dublin in a couple of hours.

When Niall walks through the gate at Dublin Airport at four in the morning, jet lagged to hell and back, he feels like he’s home. He thinks he’s never felt so happy to hear an Irish accent, and he certainly has never been so happy to have no fucking clue what he’s doing.

(Well, he has  _ some _ idea of what he’s doing, he just isn’t sure it’s going to work out the way it does in his head.)

Niall isn’t lucky enough to charm his way into a free rental car, and he spent all his money on his plane ticket, so he’s forced to call his Da and wake him up at this ungodly hour--luckily for him, as tough as Bobby tries to act, he’s always been soft at heart. He sounds like he’s already running out the door when Niall tells him he’s just over an hour away.

After a tearful embrace and a lot of questions-- _ what brings you home, why didn’t you tell me you were coming, how’s life in LA, are you missing it here yet? _ \--Niall is on his way back to the town he was born and raised in.

Mullingar is a quaint little area smack dab in the middle of the country. The sun is just rising over the hills and behind the trees when his dad’s car rolls past the park that Niall and all of his friends used to go to;  _ the _ park of his childhood really--the one he played footie in so many times, the one he fucked up his knee in, the one he fell in love in…

(Niall’s lying when he tells himself that he didn’t come home to find Harry, but at the same time, he’s not. A visit was long overdue since he started his time in LA, but he could have stayed away longer had he not been dreaming and thinking about Harry so much the day before. He has never made decisions faster than when Harry is involved in them--it’s something he thought he has outgrown, but this proves he absolutely has not.)

After arriving home, Niall and his dad sit outside on the porch as the world wakes up, talking about the past few years they’ve spent apart.

“You’re doing alright out there, ain’t ya?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah,” Niall nods, “o’ course. I’ve been playing enough gigs to keep my little apartment, picked up a few shifts at some of the bars around--I’m all good. Actually I,” Niall chuckles, uncrossing his left leg from his right to cross his right leg over his left, “I’ve been talking with a really big record company lately and I think I’m gonna sign a deal.”

“A deal?” his dad asks, the octave of his voice rising a bit in excitement. Niall looks over and sees his face lit up in excitement. “That’s amazing, Niall. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Da,” Niall chuckles, smiling bashfully as Bobby pulls him into a one-armed hug; it’s firm despite the halved nature of it, and after a few claps on Niall’s back, the two pull apart.

“What’s this gonna mean?” Bobby asks after a few moments of silence.

“What’s it gonna mean? Well…” Niall trails off, considering what his  _ dad _ means. “I’ll get paid to make music. I’ll go on tours, I might win awards, sell out arenas, stuff like that…”

“Will you ever come home?”

Niall figures he knew that’s what his dad meant in his original question, but he may or may have been trying to avoid answering it.

Niall pauses and reaches one hand up to his mouth to chew on his nails. He doesn’t know the answer as much as he likes to think he does, but he wishes he did. He sees what he doesn’t want to be in other singers and travelling musicians--they don’t go home--they  _ can’t _ , they’re working or touring or hiding from paparazzi and fans and  _ everyone _ when things get to be too much for them. Niall doesn’t wanna be that way.

“Yeah,” he concludes softly, “of course I’ll come home.”

“Good,” Bobby sighs, “this town’s not the same without you.”

Niall thinks he’s not the same without this town, but he doesn’t say so. He just stands and stretches his arms above his head as a yawn tears its way out of his mouth.

“If you go to sleep now you’re gonna be backwards on your sleep your whole time here,” Bobby laughs, standing with him.

“Think I might take a shower then,” Niall decides, “might call up some old friends and see if they’re around today.”

“I don’t think any of ‘em are gonna be up this early, but I know your brother probably is to take Theo to school. Ring ‘em sometime.”

(Niall doesn’t call his brother immediately, but he’ll see him later on, he reasons. Things with his brother haven’t exactly been great since he left for America, but Niall understands the importance of family bonds and keeping the peace between them.)

After Niall showers (and maybe stands under the water for too long questioning what the fuck he’s doing), he finds his father asleep on the couch, and instead of waking him up or risking sitting down and falling asleep too, Niall decides to take a jog around town and see if anything has changed.

He quickly realizes that the answer is no.

Like almost every day when Niall was still in school, he walks down the street towards the main part of town that holds shopping centers and restaurants and places to hang out at. Before he gets there, he notices that at the end of the block is the same elderly couple that has always been there with the wife sitting on the porch of their cottage drinking tea, and the husband hobbling down the steps to check the post. Their faces light up when they see Niall, clearly recognizing him from all the times they’ve seen him over the years.

“Is that Bobby’s son I see?” the old man asks when Niall gets close enough.

“Sure is,” Niall smiles, stopping briefly. “Just came home for a visit.”

“Where you been at, boy? Looks like you been getting more sun than Ireland has all together.” The man laughs a breathy, wheezing laugh.

“I moved to LA,” Niall tells him, repeating himself a few times before the man can hear him.

“Los Angeles,” he whistles, “ain’t that something.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Niall chuckles, “it’s nothing like home, but it’s good to me.”

“Nothing’s gonna be as good as home, boy,” the man says and he starts to turn away, “just you keep that in mind.”

And Niall does, because he knows the man is right.

Niall walks away then, and heads off to the park where he spent most of his time as a teen. He keeps his head up as he walks, avoiding all the cracks in the pavement as he goes based purely on the memory of where each one is. He looks at everything he can, at his mates’ houses, or what’s probably just their parents’ houses now; at the empty yards of people who’ve either passed or moved away; at the football field full of kids and the rusty playground equipment that hardly gets used anymore and could really use a new coat of paint.

Niall lowers himself onto the first swing at the leftmost edge of the set and links his arms around the chains, lazily swinging back a few inches and forward again all while keeping his toes on the ground to control his movements. Niall looks up to the bar his seat hangs from and can just barely make out the letters N and H scrawled at the top, the latter half missing from the paint being weathered away. He remembers the time he climbed to the top trying to impress Harry and how he almost fell and, up until that point in his life, had never felt so much fear.

Niall remembers that when he got down, Harry hugged him  _ so tight _ and said “ _ don’t you ever scare me like that again, Niall Horan! _ ” the way his mother would have done if she had seen him scramble up there with a permanent marker clenched between his teeth. (The only difference is that Niall didn’t mind Harry scolding him, because hearing Harry say his name made his heart do this funny thing, but when his mam scolded him, he got even more afraid.)

_ Why am I still thinking of Harry?  _ Niall asks himself.  _ I shouldn’t be, I need to sto- _

“Is it really you, Horan?” someone asks behind him. Niall’s surprised he didn’t hear their footsteps, because when he turns to look, there are three familiar faces standing behind him. He’s shocked to see them so early, but not shocked at all to  _ see _ them. He knew from the time he was on the plane that he would be seeing them sooner or later--he definitely had plans to, anyway.

“It’s really me,” he laughs, a large smile creeping onto his face.

“Those teeth!” Holly exclaims, coming close enough to reach out and grab at his chin to tilt his head up--she’d always been the handsy one.

“Got braces after I moved,” Niall explains, standing up to wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“I know,” she laughs, hugging him back, “It was on your twitter. I still follow you, Mr. Big Shot.”

“Mr.?!” Niall asks, bewildered in a teasing way as he pushes her back gently. “That’s Sir to you,” his friends laugh, “and you two as well! C’mere,” he says, opening his arms wide for Sean and Laura to pile in.

“You know, when I woke up this morning I didn’t think I would be calling in sick to hunt down an old friend. Laura called me up ‘bout an hour ago and said she’d seen you out with your da,” Sean explains as everyone stands in a little circle around Niall.

“I didn’t think I’d be here this morning either, to be fair,” Niall shrugs, “kinda made the last minute decision to fly out last night.”

“Running away from the LA life already?” Holly jokes.

“No, nothing like that,” Niall chuckles, dipping his hands into his pocket and kicking his shoes down into the mulch. “I just wanted to come home and think, maybe find some inspiration and get some writing done.”

“You still going after music, then?” Sean asks.

“Yeah,” Niall nods, “I’ve, uh, I’ve got a deal, actually. I’m gonna sign with Capitol soon.”

The beaming smiles on all of their faces are identical as his friends cheer and congratulate him, and Niall tries to contain his excitement.

“That’s amazing!” Laura says, and,

“I always knew you’d get a break!” Holly adds, attaching herself to Niall for another hug. Maybe when he called her handsy in his head a few minutes ago it was untrue--she was never like this with others, but he definitely remembers that she used to fancy Niall, and if Harry hadn’t come along, Niall thinks he might have dated her instead.

“Thank you guys,” Niall says, “I’m really excited. I been wanting to do this forever, yanno, so I really hope it all goes well.”

“I’m sure it will,” Sean insists, “let us know when your album comes out and when you release songs, we’ll throw a huge party for ya!”

Niall laughs and throws his head back, glad to know that despite several years of time, his friends all seem to act the same.

“We should go out for drinks right  _ now _ ,” Sean changes his mind. “We need to celebrate you being home and getting a record deal!”

“It’s 7AM on a Thursday, mate,” Laura laughs, “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow night at least.”

“That seems much better,” Niall agrees, “we can get proper pissed after you’ve all finished work.”

“Are you trying to skip out on us right now, Horan?”

“Nah,” Niall smiles innocently, “but I was gonna go see me nephew. I’ll catch up with you guys in a couple days.”

“Aww,” Holly pouted, “are you sure?”

“‘m sure.”

“Well,” Sean says, clapping Niall on the shoulder, “I’m gonna go home and drink since I’ve already called off work. You ladies are welcome to join me.”

Niall chuckles as he starts to walk away, waving over his shoulder to his friends. He can hear their voices fade away as he walks in one direction and they go in another.

“I have work at noon, actually,” Laura says to Sean, and,

“I don’t drink on weekdays,” Holly shrugs.

x

Word gets around just as quick as always, Niall notices as a few more familiar faces pop up around town. A few people say “good to see you again” and “heard you were back,” and even a couple of the more annoying “you’re doing well, huh” jokes.

Of all the people Niall sees, he doesn’t see Harry. The entire time he spent talking to his friends and each of the people who stopped him through town, Harry’s name was on the tip of his tongue. He wants to ask about him--where he is, what he’s been up to, there’s  _ so much _ he wants to talk about--but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think he’s too  _ shy _ to ask, but rather, he doesn’t want to sound desperate or like he’s still into his ex (even though...well, that’s kind of exactly the case).

Niall settles for biting his tongue most of the day. It’s only when he goes back to his dad’s house that he finally gets it all off his chest.

“So what’d you do today?” Bobby asks as they’re sitting down for dinner. Niall doesn’t know why this is the time he decides to bring it up, he doubts Bobby would even know anything about the subject anyway, but still he asks.

“I just kinda went around and seen some old friends. I didn’t see Harry, though. Do you know if he’s still around?”

“ _ Your _ Harry?” he asks, and Niall nods, cheeks involuntarily reddening at Bobby’s choice of words when clarifying  _ which _ Harry Niall’s talking about. “Harry’s a great lad, I see him every week at the store.”

“Really,” Niall hums trying to seem casual although he definitely wasn’t  _ feeling _ casual. He’s actually incredibly excited to hear that maybe he’ll run into Harry sometime during his stay. If it wasn’t for the fact that Niall is still lying to himself in saying that he didn’t come home to find Harry, he would start asking a million more questions about Harry and where to find him. But he doesn’t, instead he trudges to his room at six o’clock, finally ready to get some sleep after hardly getting any between now and a day prior.

Then it’s Friday evening and all Niall has done today is sit at home and watch golf while day-drinking with his father (not that he minds, of course; Niall loves staying in and having moments like these that remind him of when he was younger and still lived at home).

When it’s time for Niall to leave for the pub he and his mates agreed to meet at, he didn’t bother dressing up. He thought he’d just be meeting up with the three people he never had to impress as a teenager, but when he walks into the pub, he notices it’s full of familiar faces that all notice him and cheer, raising their drinks to him in congratulations. After only talking to a few people he realizes that his friends told everyone of his record deal, and Niall hasn’t worried about somehow fucking up and losing his deal since he landed in Ireland, but now with all these people expecting him to get it, he’s almost petrified.

Thankfully, Niall gets to drinking right away and by half eleven, he’s already forgotten his worry. Coincidentally, he’s also forgotten about anyone who isn’t in this pub with him, that is until one of his friends yells in his ear over the music and the chatter to say that Harry couldn’t make it but says “congratulations, I knew you’d do it.”

And then Niall’s heart skips a beat, or so it seems.

“He wha,” Niall slurs, but by the time he’s turned around, whoever was just against his ear is gone. Niall then stumbles around to someone else he recognizes and tries to ask about Harry. In his mind he’s saying  _ Harry Styles, where is he, do you know where he is, _ but all that came out was “Huh, Ha, Haahhhh.”

“Are you looking for Holly? She’s over there.”

“No,” Niall shakes his head frantically. “Haaaarrr…”

“Sorry mate, no clue,” they cut him off and shrug, fucking off to some other part of the room to let someone else deal with Niall’s drunk ass.

Niall gives up though, because Holly finds her way to him and convinces him to get on the floor and dance with her. It’s almost the same as when they were in secondary school and their version of “prom” when Niall had just hung around the edges of the room with his mates and sipped alcohol that they had snuck in, making the gathering fun on their own, but not exactly fun for those that had to deal with them afterward.

Except, this isn’t entirely like “prom.” Instead of awkwardly putting his hands on Holly’s waist while looking around the room to see if the cute exchange student from England was there and also if any teachers were going to yell at them for their proximity, Niall finds his hands darting out to grab her hips as she turns her back to him and “dances” using her hips more than anything to the beat of the music, unashamedly grinding against his crotch.

Niall finds this more awkward than he found “prom,” mostly because this girl is trying really hard but failing to get a reaction out of him, but also because he’s suddenly gotten really tired and would much rather go home than have to explain to Holly that he still isn’t really into her.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says into her ear with her head tilted back onto his shoulder.

“Okay,” Niall says lamely, carefully peeling himself away from her. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh,” she pouts, turning to face him. Niall shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets, and she narrows her eyes at him. “Aren’t you gonna invite me back?”

“No,” Niall deadpans. “I’m gonna say bye to a few others and then leave. I’ll see you ‘round town.”

Niall thinks that maybe she has tears in her eyes when he walks away, but his vision is blurry anyway from all the lights and how pissed he is, so he doesn’t know.

Niall also thinks maybe he should have called a taxi or an uber or something, because stumbling through town in the middle of the night isn’t a good idea. It isn’t that it’s unsafe, but it’s that Niall really hates the feeling he gets in his stomach when police lights starts flashing behind him. It’s happened before, and he knows that at most they’ll just take him home, not wanting to deal with the paperwork that comes with holding someone for the night, but still when it happens, he’s a little over it.

Niall stops stumbling and sighs heavily, running his hands down his face as though he can wipe away the alcohol in his system.

“Y’alright?” the officer calls out the window of his car, and shit, Niall isn’t surprised at all that it’s the same cop that used to take him home when he was younger.

“A bit pissed if I’m honest, mate,” Niall slurs, shuffling towards the car.

“Where are you staying? I’ll give you a lift.”

Niall gets in the passenger side of the car rather than the back, preferring to not feel like he’s getting in trouble for something. He’s 23 for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be anxious at the prospect of being driven home.

“Me da’s place,” Niall says and the officer hums, “Bobby Horan.”

“Just had a chat with Bobby the other day,” the officer says as he pulls away from the kerb slowly, “said his son’s been off in LA, hasn’t called much or anythin’.”

“Well I’m here now ain’t I?” Niall wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“He your brother then? The one off in LA.”

Niall shakes his head.

“Not quite,” Niall tries, but a yawn comes out instead.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, lad, we’ll almost be there.”

Niall thinks he’s trying, but that doesn’t really come across well as he starts to fall asleep. Next things he knows, he’s waking up the next morning with a raging headache.

_ I’m not getting out of bed, _ he thinks,  _ I’m gonna lay here all day. _

He groans when he turns his head and a ray of sunshine peeking in through the curtain shines in his eyes. He turns back the other way and uses an extra pillow as a shield to keep the light at bay, and he drifts back to sleep that way.

The second time he wakes up, it’s the afternoon. He’s just heard his door click shut and assumes his dad has stopped in to see if he’s still alive (since he’s not in the room when Niall glances around, he also assumes that Bobby is sure that Niall’s still breathing).

Niall trudges out of bed, all the way out of his room, and into the loo down the hall. He looks like a proper mess when he sees himself in the mirror, and it makes him laugh. His hair is sticking up every which way, and his eyes are bloodshot and puffy as if he’d spent all night crying. He combs it down gently before brushing his teeth to get rid of the horrible morning breath he’s got.

Niall goes out to the kitchen and sees a note left on the table saying his dad popped out to work and would be back by supper.

_ A’right then, _ Niall thinks, turning back to his room,  _ might have a wank to start the day. _

(At least he’s honest with himself.)

(He absolutely doesn’t think about Harry. Totally not at all.)

x

There are lots of people out in the shops today, Niall notices as he’s walking down main street. It’s Saturday, after all, but he doesn’t remember it ever being this busy when he was younger. He also doesn’t remember all of the shops he’s seeing. He used to go to sports shops and Top Shop and occasionally a boutique with his girl friends, but now there are American outsorced stores and home decor shops that, admittedly, he probably ignored when he was younger but he finds interesting now.

Niall remembers as he’s sitting down for a late lunch in a new cafe that when he was younger, he used to think it would be weird to be an adult just sitting around in a shop at half three with no one to talk to, but look at him now doing just that. And on top of it, seeing teens pour in after school and disrupt the quiet scene bugs him a little, but what bugs him more is that he’s becoming one of the adults he used to think were no fun.

He orders a greasy burger and chips for lunch instead of something very LA like a spinach salad with strawberry vinaigrette, mostly because it’s what’s on the menu, and also because he thinks it makes him feel more like a normal 23 year old (until the point where his acid reflux gets him, but he makes do with what medicine he can find in the pharmacy).

Towards the end of his shopping trip, Niall’s kind of proud that the only bag he has is from the pharmacy. When he started his trip, he was afraid that he would fall prey to impulse buys and end up buying more than he could take back to LA with him, but he finds himself better at controlling his wallet than he originally thought.

So when Niall goes towards the shop he tells himself will be the last he visits today, he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, and he definitely doesn’t know what to do with them when he sees Harry through a window.

He almost doesn’t recognize him.

Harry’s hair is still curly, but it’s shorter than usual--it looks as if the sides had recently been shaved but are slowly growing back out (the ends are just starting to curl into tiny little ringlets and Niall wants to wrap them around his fingers).

Harry’s definitely taller than he used to be, Niall notices, and thinner too, with muscular arms decorated in tattoos in contrast to Harry’s cute baby-fat look he used to have. There’s a stern look on his face as he examines what’s in his hands as though he’s trying to consider what makes it so important, whatever it is.

Niall’s just about to run for the door and head in when he notices someone sneak up behind Harry and wrap their arms around him, causing him to jump and turn to them. Niall can only see half of Harry’s face now, but he can see the dimple in his cheek appear as Harry leans in for a kiss.

Niall’s hands ball into fists as he walks home.

He isn’t angry, but he’s nervous as if he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have, or didn’t  _ want _ to witness, really. Maybe he’s not nervous, but maybe…

_ I’m not jealous _ , Niall thinks, shaking his head as if he can shake the thought away.  _ I don’t have a right to be jealous, he isn’t mine. _

He isn’t his.

Niall really doesn’t like that thought. He wishes he could say he was fine with Harry having a boyfriend and that he’s happy that Harry’s happy, but he  _ can’t be _ , he fucking came all the way home to prove to himself that he isn’t still in love with Harry, and seeing him for  _ three fucking seconds _ through a bloody shop window made him feel more in love with him than he’s been in years.

“Fuckin’ Styles with his fuckin’ hair and the fuckin’ dimples and who does he think he is lookin’ like that,” Niall grumbles as he walks home, rubbing the tips of his fingers against his palms to make sure no matter how hard he squeezes, he doesn’t lose feeling.

Maybe Niall is jealous  _ and _ angry. Jealous that Harry isn’t his, and angry that he’s flown across the world thinking that Harry  _ would be _ his. He’s almost embarrassed, too, because he came all the way out here for this rather than to see his family and friends and be home for the sake of being home.

When Niall gets back to Bobby’s house, he calls his brother and says he’s in town and asks how Theo is, and Niall isn’t invited to stay with him, but when he calls his mom she’s more than happy to house him for a couple of days so Niall can visit on the other side of Mullingar for a while.

As soon as his mum opens the door, Theo’s hollering “Uncle Niall!” and running past her legs to get outside.

“Oi, look at you!” Niall says back, picking Theo up when he’s about to hug Niall’s legs. He’s at least twice as big as the last time Niall saw him, and honestly he’s a bit heavier than Niall is used to holding, but he doesn’t show it as he hugs his nephew tightly against his chest.

“How have you been, love?” Denise asks with a smile as Niall carries Theo just into the house until he squirms and asks to be let down.

“I’ve been great,” Niall says, arms reaching out to hug her around her shoulders tightly. “How’re you? And Theo and Greg, everything good out here?”

“Of course,” she smiles, rubbing his back, “we’re all good. He’s excited, really. Greg. He’s been missing you.”

“I been missing him too,” Niall admits, because being home has made him miss everything despite the fact that the last couple of times they’ve talked, they’ve argued over petty things like Niall not visiting enough or only calling to ask how Theo is.

Niall pulls away from the hug and asks, “so where’s he?”

“Starting the barbeque out back. Go on out, we’ll be just in the den.”

Niall hesitates as he starts towards the back patio door, looking towards the den instead. He would really like to sit with Theo and pick his brain to find out how smart he is and what kind of stuff he’s learning at school, because he’s sure that Theo is a smart little lad and because he’s just curious as to how the school system has improved since Niall was a toddler. He’s heard from friends in LA that their kids are smarter and smarter, but…

Niall stops stalling and goes out the back. He’s immediately greeted with the smell of burning charcoal and sizzling meat.

“There you are,” Greg says, keeping his gaze down as he lays pieces of chicken across the rack. “I heard your car pull in, was wondering when you’d come out and say hello.”

“I wouldn’t miss the chance, lad,” Niall says, peering over his shoulder. “That’s lookin’ great.”

“It’s gonna be good. I’ve invited Mam over for dinner, she’ll be ‘round ‘bout six.”

“Sounds good,” Niall nods.

They don’t really talk much while they’re outside, not really about themselves or what they’re up to. They just talk about what’s going on right then, the grill and the food and the sunset, and they save talking about themselves for when Maura comes for dinner and instigates all the conversations held. She wants to know what her babies have been up to, is the first thing she says, and “especially Niall, over in America,” is the second which earns Niall a jealous glare from his brother, and he’s  _ really _ trying to avoid any sort of argument here in front of the whole family, so Niall doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and lets Theo, of everyone present, to say the first thing.

“This is strawberry.” Niall looks over and sees Theo nibbling on a strawberry, smacking his lips and over-exaggerating his chews the way a four year old does.

“It is,” Denise smiles, then explains to Niall, “he’s learning about foods in school so he’s very keen on telling you what everything is.”

“Oh,” Niall smiles back. He’s not  _ impressed _ that his nephew can identify fruit, but he’s  _ endeared _ . Things are so simple to a four year old--he doesn’t have to worry about signing a record deal and having enough original material to make an album, he doesn’t have to worry about falling in love or getting his heart broken or moving on, he doesn’t worry about stress or politics or money or religion, all he worries about is what berry he’s eating.

Niall tries not to long for that state of living, ‘cause he’d absolutely hate having to grow up and do everything again--well, most things. There are some things he wouldn’t mind revisiting, like the pride he felt after his first play at school, or the thrill he got when he was ten and his family would ask him to sing for them, or the way he felt whenever Harry said his name...

“What’ve you been doing out in LA?” Greg asks, which shocks Niall a little bit, honestly, because he thought his mom would start the questions. Greg usually didn’t like to hear of Niall’s life in LA ever since accusing Niall of running away from family and friends because he’s “too good for them.”

“Ah, just regular ole stuff, I reckon,” Niall sighs softly, shrugging like what he does is casual work. “I been playing little shows a lot across town, been working on getting a record deal, same old, same old.”

“And how’s that going for you?” Greg follows, a glint in his eye of something that Niall doesn’t recognize. It could be genuine curiosity, or it could be a want for Niall to fail and move home so that Greg doesn’t have to accept his little brother is gloriously outshining him.

“Really great, actually,” Niall says after swallowing a bite of the food. “I’ve gotten a deal with Capitol, which is like, a really big company. I should be officially signing with them right after I head back to the states.”

Bobby clearly hadn’t bothered telling anyone Niall’s business (which was nice of him, really, so that Niall gets to give people news of his career) based on the reaction he gets from the three around him that understand what signing a deal means. Theo just shouts because everyone else is and to a four year old, that’s an appropriate response.

“Thanks,” Niall chuckles bashfully, “I’m really excited for it,” he adds after the room has calmed.

“My boy,” Maura says tearfully, clutching her hands together over her chest. “I am so  _ proud _ of you, Niall. I’ve always known you were going to do great things, that’s why I named you after a king.”

“I know, Ma,” Niall smiles, looking down to his plate like an embarrassed child, “you’ve told me that a billion times, I’m sure.”

“Because I’ve meant it a billion times,” she concludes with all the passion and cheesy nature that mothers possess.

Greg clears his throat awkwardly and spends most of the rest of the meal in silence, eating and nodding whenever someone would say something or look at him. Niall’s glad he’s not staying much longer with him.

When Maura leaves after dinner and after a bit of play with Theo, so does Niall. He goes to her house, the second house of his when he was growing up, and stays in his old bedroom for the night. He’s lucky that he snagged some of his clothes from his dad’s house before he went to visit Greg, because nothing left in his drawers would fit him besides a few oversized tshirts that he had because that was cool for boys to wear back in his day. He would look really silly just walking around in one of them.

Niall tries to go to sleep as quickly as possible, but his mind is racing. He definitely thinks he’s an idiot for coming home just to see Harry, he recognizes that, but he also thinks that maybe this is for the best. He needed to come home anyway, and since coming home he has learned that he does still, or maybe once again, have feelings for Harry, and now he can fuck off back to America and try to move on from that, no contact with Harry required.

Or so he thinks for the moment. Little does he know, in 12 hours when he’s sorting through old pictures with his mom, he’s going to find some from when he was dating Harry and it’ll spur some sort of longing that will cause him to text Sean asking for Harry’s number.

Niall tries to stop it from happening, if he’s honest. He knows that his phone is in his room still, tucked down in the pocket of the jeans he was wearing the night before, but when he sees a picture of he and Harry bundled up in the cold standing atop some of the cliffs near the coast, he can’t help but to let himself think about it for a little too long until he’s running to his room to find his phone.

It was a really big day for them because it was the first time Bobby took Harry anywhere knowing that he was Niall’s  _ boy _ friend and not just his  _ friend _ . Harry had been so nervous the whole time, afraid that Niall’s dad wouldn’t approve of him anymore or wouldn’t like seeing their arms around each other or hands intertwined, but like Niall had tried to assure him a thousand times, Bobby  _ adored _ Harry and would be happy with Niall as long as he was happy, no matter who he was happy with. It was a really big day for them, and Niall just wants to know that his heart isn’t the only one that still flutters when he sees pictures of it.

He also kinda wants to know if Harry still has a copy of it, if Harry still has  _ anything _ from when they dated (but he doesn’t tell Sean that when he asks for his number).

“ _ Styles?” _ comes his reply after Niall asks.

“ _ yeah,”  _ he confirms, nervously biting on his nails until nine little numbers pop up in his received messages.

Niall gives Sean a quick thanks before saving the number to his phone as “H” because he’s too eager to text him to type every letter.

“ _ this is niall here , is this harry ?”  _ Niall hates that it sounds as formal as it does, but he doesn’t know how else to start a conversation. He’s worried Harry will just ignore him, might not want to actually talk to him. In fact, Niall thinks maybe that’s why Harry didn’t go to Niall’s homecoming party, maybe he just sent his wishes so that he didn’t have to face his ex boyfriend and instead could just stay in with his-

“ _ hiiiiiii. how have you been niall? i havent seen you in ages x”  _ comes in before Niall can continue his speculations.

“ _ I know, it’s been too long ! I’m at me ma’s house lookin through pictures, do you remember this one ?”  _ Niall starts boldly, sending Harry a picture of the picture he’s been clutching in his lap for the past ten minutes.

“ _ I’ve still got that somewhere around here. really cold that day. so you’re in town then? staying long?” _

_ “probably another week, yeah. are you around?” _

_ “been living here ever since,”  _ Harry says, not really clarifying since  _ what _ , but Niall knows, really.  _ “we should hang out before you leave.” _

Niall is surprised that arranging a not-really-but-still-kind-of date with Harry is so easy. He shouldn’t be though, and he knows that, because this is Harry after all, and age probably made him even more easy going than he was before, not the other way around.

“ _ definitely, _ ” Niall types then changes it for,  _ “yeah, whenever you’re free. _ ”

_ “how about that little cafe on main? lunch on tuesday?” _

_ “noon? sounds good.” _

_ “looking forward to it.xx” _

Niall’s smiling like a loon when he gets Harry’s last message. His mum also happens to be calling from him from the living room, so he takes his phone with him just in case Harry says something else or if he comes across any other pictures he feels like sharing.

Niall doesn’t send anything else, though, and neither does Harry. Their next interaction really isn’t until they meet at the cafe they talked about and Harry’s half an hour late.

“I’m so sorry,” a deep, out of breath voice says from behind Niall, making him jump in his seat and turn around. Harry smiles when Niall looks up at him, opening his arms for a hug that Niall may or may not throw himself into.

“I didn’t mean to be late,” Harry mumbles above Niall’s head when they hug, and it’s the same tight, engulfing hug Harry has always given him. It feels familiar and really,  _ really _ nice.

“It’s okay,” Niall reassures him, slowly sliding his hand down Harry’s back as their hug ends. Harry smiles again, a wide, dimply smile, before sitting at the seat across from Niall’s.

“So how have you been? How’s LA?”

Niall groans playfully, rolling his head around before leaning it down on his arms that are crossed on the table.

“Everyone’s been asking me that.”

“Well,” Harry chuckles, leaning in towards Niall, “I could just skip the pretending and say that I heard you’re signing a record deal and I’m really, really,  _ really  _ extremely happy for you.”

Niall peeks up from the barricade his arms make to look at Harry’s expression and see a fond smile just tugging at his lips. Niall’s seen this smile a million times, and he wants to see it a million more.

“Thanks, mate,” he says softly as he sits up. “I never thought I’d get here, if I’m honest. I’ve always wanted it, you know that, but especially after going to LA, I didn’t really think I would be good enough. There’s so much talent in that city, it’s unbelieveable.”

“I knew you would. You’ve been working hard for it your whole life, you were born to do this.”

“What about you, though? I know you’ve always wanted this too, Haz, don’t tell me you’ve stopped.”

Harry looks around the cafe instead of answering.

“ _ Harry, _ ” Niall says sternly, “why’ve you stopped singing? You’re so bloody good.”

“I haven’t  _ stopped _ , I just haven’t tried to do anything with it. I’ve been trying acting lately.”

“Acting? Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “I really liked doing theater when I was younger, so I’ve been doing stuff, just not with singing--a few local shows, some background roles in movies, stuff like that.”

“Movies?,” Niall questions, raising his eyebrows. “Anything I can expect to see you starring in then?”

“Not quite,” Harry smiles, giggling excitedly like he’d just been waiting for someone to ask him this question, “but I am gonna be in a Christopher Nolan film next summer. I’m not a lead, but I got a couple lines, little bit of backstory, yanno.”

“That’s really cool, H,” Niall says sincerely. “I’m gonna go see that when it comes out. I bet you’re brilliant.”

Harry laughs softly and bashfully, keeping his chin tilted down while he does do. Niall smiles fondly, watching as Harry nibbles on his lip to bite back his smile.

“‘M gonna go get some food, you want anything?” Niall asks, and Harry shakes his head.

“I had lunch with my, uh, with one of my friends before I came--that’s why I was late.”

“Oh,” Niall shrugs, “okay. I’ll be right back.”

He’s glad that he’s already up and stepping away from the table when Harry mentions his “friend” because Niall’s sure that he means his  _ boy _ friend, and think of Harry’s boyfriend sets a frown into Niall’s face. He’s gotten a reminder that this isn’t  _ his _ Harry he’s out with, and he’s really not too keen on that, but there isn’t much he can do to change it.

After he’s gone back to their table, he tries to keep from reminiscing too much for the fear of accidentally saying something like “I’m still in love with you” or “I really wish I’d never left you,” or something fucking stupid like that. Despite this, their conversation flows naturally, going from their careers to their hobbies to funny shit they’ve seen online, and it all seems really easy with Harry, and that scares Niall because he’s really almost certain that those things he doesn’t wanna say have been on the tip of his tongue several times already.

It’s when they’re saying goodbye to leave that Niall gets to hug Harry again and hear him mumble right next to his ear, “This was really nice. I’ve missed you.”

Niall isn’t sure whether Harry seems to walk away so quickly because of how tense Niall’s shoulders got at that, or because Niall (very elegantly and gracefully) mumbled back “me--you too.”

It’s probably a bit of both.

While Niall sits beside his phone for the rest of the night waiting for Harry to call or text or  _ anything _ , he has ample time to think about all the ways his reaction was wrong and all the ways Harry could have interpreted it.

In short, he feels like a twat.

_ Really _ , he should have fucking known that he would mess up  _ something _ and scare Harry off, but he didn’t think that it would be tensing up and stumbling over his words.  _ Harry probably thinks he made me uncomfortable. Maybe he thinks he’s overstepped a boundary. At least I didn’t say it, but come on, how was I supposed to react? _

He wishes something convenient would happen to stop his train of thought from blowing through every possible scenario, but he’s not that lucky.

To distract himself, Niall sits in Bobby’s back garden with his favorite acoustic guitar and plays a melody or two, letting his hands and eventually the accompaniment of his voice distract him sufficiently. He might see a neighbor to two peek over the fence, but he doesn’t mind--the attention is welcomed. He’s gotten lots of it over the years by playing and singing, and  _ obviously _ he’s not going to stop now that he’s finally gotten a record deal.

Niall gets lazy after doing his rendition of “Take Me To Church” and leans back lazily in his seat, letting his guitar lay crookedly across his body. Even as he holds it at the most awkward angle he’s ever possibly held it, he plays a few quick chords in procession with each other with hardly any effort at all--he’s played this string of chords a million times at least, and he still has no idea if it’s from a song that he doesn’t remember or if he’s made it up.

Niall stops when the back door opens and Bobby steps out.

“There ye are,” he says, “didn’t know if you were here or not.”

Niall makes a noise between a groan and a sigh as he sits up from his uncomfortable position, finally sliding his guitar into the open case that sat at his feet.

“Where else would I be?” Niall asks honestly. He doesn’t mean it in a snarky way like when he was younger, he just means that there’s nowhere else he’d  _ rather _ be.

“Not sure, really,” Bobby smiles, “D’ya wanna come in? It’s gettin’ a bit chilly out.”

Bobby Horan, the man who runs to the airport at four in the morning to pick up a son he hasn’t seen in person in several years, is also the man who won’t just say “I miss you, let’s hang out,” but Niall knows that’s what he means.

“‘Course,” Niall says, closing up his case tightly before picking it up and starting towards the door. “I missed you, too,” he mumbles, playfully elbowing Bobby’s arm. He sees a glimpse of another smile before he walks through the door.

“That’s a shite shot,” he’s sighing ten minutes later from his seat on the sofa in the living room beside Bobby with a beer in one hand and nothing in his other, not even his phone. Niall likes that this is what they do no matter how old they’re getting or how long Niall’s been away. He knows from experience that he can lose entire days to watching tournament after tournament with his dad, whether it be golf, boxing, or football, and he really doesn’t mind.

In fact, Niall does lose several days to doing just that. It’s Friday when Niall gets a text from Harry, and instead of immediately jumping to answer it, he thinks briefly yet hard about how he’s already been in Ireland for just over a week. He only has a few more days before he needs to be back in LA, and it’s bittersweet.

But that thought goes away quickly, because Niall’s really eager to see what Harry has to say.

“ _ do you wanna hang out again today? i’m free most of the evening.” _

A smile overtakes Niall’s face instantly, and he doesn’t even bother trying to bite his lip to suppress it.  _ Shite, when did I start acting like a lovesick puppy? _

(He doesn’t think about it, but the answer is “when he flew to Ireland because he had a dream about Harry.”)

_ “yeah,” _ Niall says back, “ _ i’m free whenever too. meet up somewhere?” _

_ “our park? i’m just a few streets over.” _

_ “me too,”  _ Niall’s surprised that that’s where Harry wants to go and that he still calls it  _ their _ park.

_ “is there any way you can come now?” _

_ “is something wrong? i’ll be there in ten.” _

Harry doesn’t respond, so Niall gets there in five minutes rather than ten. He’s worried immediately at the lack of Harry’s response, and worry makes him work faster.

Niall approaches from the east side of the park, which coincidentally leads to Niall seeing the back of Harry before he sees the front of him.

Harry’s sitting on  _ his _ seat on the swing, the one beside the leftmost seat that is  _ Niall’s _ swing.  _ Of course he remembers which swing to sit on,  _ Niall tells himself, _ he’s Harry. _

“Hey,” he says simply, lamely waving when Harry peers over his shoulder to see him.

“Hi,” Harry drawls, keeping his eyes on Niall during his whole journey into the mulch lot that holds the swings, and around the seat that Harry is sitting on to get to his own.

“Are you alright?” Niall asks as he sits, holding Harry’s stare.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m alright. Are you?”

“Well, yeah,” Niall tilts his head, “but you didn’t text me back. I thought something was wrong.”

“Because I didn’t text you back?” Harry’s laughing a little now, trying, it seems, to keep it under his breath, but he’s clearly amused.

“Well, yeah. You asked me to meet you now and I asked if something was wrong and you didn’t respond. I thought maybe something happened.”

Harry smiles fondly at Niall’s concern and turns his head to look off in the distance out towards the football field and the trees on the hills.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, “I’m actually quite happy.”

Niall pauses, waiting to see if Harry will say anything else, but he doesn’t.

“That’s good,” Niall nods, turning his head too to look off in the distance, wondering what Harry’s seeing that’s so interesting.

“How many times do you think we’ve been here?” Harry asks after a minute or two of idle swaying and comfortable silence.

“To the park?”

“Mm,” Harry hums, then pauses like he’s thinking if that’s what he really means. “Yeah. Do you reckon it’s hundreds?”

“Probably,” Niall agrees, “at least 100, probably at least a whole year’s worth of days.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, “or a year and a half.”

Niall isn’t sure if Harry’s completely there or if he’s really as okay as he says he is, but he isn’t going to press it. Instead, he swings because after all, he’s there on a swing set with nothing to say, and it seems like the most reasonable thing to do.

Harry laughs when Niall’s genuinely swinging, kicking his legs out and curling them in as he goes back and forth, and he joins in. They feel like they’re kids again trying to see who can go the highest, because everyone knew the highest swinger was the coolest person on the playground.

They swing until they’re in pace with each other, side by side no matter how high or low on their rotation they are. Harry still thinks Niall looks cute when his cheeks turn pink.

They stop swinging when Niall groans that his legs are tired, and they both ease back towards the ground as their momentum fades away. Harry’s breath is a little heavy, but Niall’s mostly unphased. He tries not to count the time between Harry’s breaths like he used to do when he was afraid Harry was having an asthma attack.

(Harry is okay, Niall decides as his breathing evens out. He wonders how long it’s been since Harry’s actually needed his inhaler. A quick glance at Harry’s lap tells Niall that his jeans are far too tight to carry an inhaler around, and he seems settled in his style, in Niall’s opinion.  _ It must have gotten easier to handle, _ he concludes.)

“If we’ve been here enough times for a year and a half,” Harry starts slowly, reaching up to tug on his bottom lip while he thinks about what he’s going to say next, “then… say we’ve spent most of that time on these swings, or playing footie?”

Niall has to actually think about that one. If he’s honest, he probably spent most of his time on the field with his mates, but if he’s thinking about  _ NiallandHarry _ , then “probably on the swings, for the two of us.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “that’s what I was thinkin’. Especially...like, some of the last times we saw each other. They were on these swings.”

Niall hums and looks down at his feet. He notices there are marks in the mulch where his feet has disturbed some and exposed some of the darker, damper material underneath. He thinks maybe that’s what Harry’s trying to do--find out what’s underneath of Niall’s exterior, see if maybe there was a reason he came home. Niall also thinks it would sound silly to anyone else, but Harry has always just  _ gotten _ Niall, and it’s not unlikely that he’d know if something was up.

“Some of the first, too,” Niall comments. “I first saw you over here when I was over there.” Niall raises his arm and points towards the opposite end of the grounds, not quite at the footie fields, but to the side of them. There were benches there when the pair were still in school, and Niall was sitting on one when he saw Harry swinging all alone.

“And you came over and the first thing out of your mouth was ‘who are you’ instead of something like ‘hello, my name’s Niall,’” Harry laughs, reaching up to touch his hair. His hand combs through it but falls short almost as if Harry’s hair used to be longer and he isn’t quite used to how short it is now. Niall wonders just how long it was.

“It was effective though, wasn’t it? Got you talkin’ to me and then you had friends from then on out--didn’t have to start out the year alone.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, remembering, “was with you from then on…”

Niall swallows thickly. He doesn’t turn to look at Harry, and he doesn’t even look out of the corner of his eye to see if Harry is looking at him. He’s afraid to take his comment in the way he  _ thinks _ Harry meant it, but he really wants to know Harry’s intentions.

“Always by my side and stuff, yanno?” Niall gets out, riding on his breath but not quite the way it does when he sighs--it was more...nervous.

“Of course,” Harry nods, “we were inseparable.” He laughs after a pause in conversation that Niall does not know how to fill, then he continues, “I guess if someone didn’t know you moved to LA, they would still think we’re inseparable, ‘cause look at us now acting like it isn’t six years after the fact…”

“I guess you’re right,” Niall chuckles, glancing to his right to see if Harry is looking at him. He is. “Not many people still hang out with their ex's, I guess.”

“We’re not, like…  _ ex’s _ ex’s. We’re just like… we still get along. We still fit, yanno?”

Niall’s head turns to Harry so quickly he thinks he’s given himself whiplash. They’re staring at each other now, unsure who should make the first move. Niall can’t believe Harry said it, almost can’t believe that he  _ remembers _ it, even, but then again… Niall remembers it too.

(A little argument sprouted in their group of friends on whether or not boys  _ always _ like being the “big spoon” when cuddling or not. Harry piped up with “well I like being the little spoon,” and Niall had said he likes being the big spoon right after, and Harry’s face lit up so much as he gasped “we fit.”)

Harry blushes when he registers the awestruck look on Niall’s face, but he doesn’t turn away.

“I mean,” he stutters, “you know what I mean, don’t you? It’s like… I dunno. I just don’t like saying we’re ex’s, ‘cause people usually think something went wrong, or like, we can’t talk anymore or anything…”

“But,” Niall starts. He raises his hand and grabs the chain that his seat hangs from, then leans his cheek against it. He’s watching the blush fade from Harry’s cheeks. “Something did go wrong, didn’t it? I left--you and the whole country. That’s wrong, and I know that.”

“It’s not, like…” Harry mumbles, breaking Niall’s stare to look down at his hands as he picks at his fingernails, “I understand why you did it. I don’t think I could have if I were the one moving away, but I think it was best for us, yanno?”

Niall doesn’t, but he says “yeah” under his breath anyway. He thinks things would have been better if he had gotten Harry to move in with him or if they had tried a long distance relationship _ at least _ . He thinks maybe his house in LA would feel like a home if he had someone beside him. (He tried to get a roommate once, and as nice as Louis was, he just wasn’t the kind of partner-in-crime Niall was longing for.)

“Do you remember when you climbed up to the bar up there?” Harry asks, stopping Niall’s train of thought. Niall glances over to see Harry looking up, so he looks up too.

“I was just thinking about that the other day.”

“You scared the fuck out of me,” Harry laughs softly.

“I know.”

They’re both staring at the faded “N + H” at the top, imaging the paint hasn’t chipped due to the weather over the years and that the whole H is still visible, as is the “= <3” that they both know is at the end.

“I should be going,” Harry says as the sky begins to turn pink a few minutes later. He stands as he speaks, taking Niall’s whole attention with him.

“Okay,” Niall agrees, standing up as well. “Guess I’ll be getting too.”

“Bye,” Harry says as he turns to Niall and spreads his arms wide. Niall says nothing as he shuffles forward and hugs Harry around his ribcage while Harry wraps his arms around Niall’s shoulders tightly as if to hold him in place.

They’re still for longer than a usual goodbye hug, but it’s neither awkward or unwanted.

“When are you leaving, again?” Harry whispers with his cheek pressed against the side of Niall’s head.

“Little less than a week from now,” Niall whispers back, both because Harry is whispering, and because he feels like talking any louder would disturb their peace.

Harry loosens his grasp on Niall slowly, and Niall takes it as a hint to pull back. They only make it a few inches before Harry stops, leaving his hands pressed gently onto Niall’s back. Niall’s hands have fallen to Harry’s waist.

“I’ll see you again before then, yeah?”

Niall thinks he sees Harry’s eyes dart down his mouth. He definitely knows he sees Harry’s tongue peek out from between his lips for just a second.

“Of course, Haz. Whenever you want,” he mumbles, bringing his eyes back up to meet Harry’s. He notices that Harry isn’t any taller than him than he used to be. Sure, they’ve both grown since they were 16, but Harry is still just tall enough that Niall needs to reach up on his toes a little to catch his lips.

“Yeah,” Harry stutters, suddenly pulling back before their lips meet. “Don’t leave without calling me, Niall,” Harry says as he backs away and shoves his hands into his too tight and too narrow pockets. Niall knows that Harry meant for it to sound threatening in a playful way, but it came out sounding more afraid than anything.

Niall walks away without saying anything, just turns on his heel and keeps his head down as he walks quickly towards home. He tries to convince himself that he didn’t misread the situation, to tell himself he isn’t embarrassed, to will his cheeks to stop burning before he gets home, but none of those things happen.

He goes straight to his room like a teenager scorned and buries himself beneath the mountain of blankets on his bed.

He knows it’s not going to make the problem go away, but it makes him relax his shoulders and uncurl his fingers from his palms. He falls asleep eventually, and he doesn’t dream of Harry.

Well, Harry’s there for part of it, but it’s not really…  _ about _ him. Niall dreams about touring and playing shows, about meeting fans and living his dream, and at the end, he sees a familiar face in the crowd. In his dream, his mind registers “that’s my boyfriend, that’s Harry.”

When he wakes up, he isn’t too keen on thinking about it. In fact, he tries to make a vow that for the rest of his time in Ireland, he won’t think about Harry unless they’re together. (To tell the truth, it doesn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t from the beginning.)

Much like the last time Harry left Niall with a promise of seeing him again, Niall doesn’t hear from Harry for several days. In fact, he doesn’t hear from Harry at all. Niall’s sad, he must admit, but he isn’t surprised. He reminds himself each time he checks his phone that Harry probably felt really awkward when Niall moved in to kiss him, and he’s probably with his boyfriend trying to forget it happened at all. Niall should do the same.

It takes a little while for Niall to get used to it, but on his way to his “Going Away” party (which happens to be held in the same pub as his “Homecoming” party), he really isn’t thinking of Harry. He’s thinking he’s ready to get drunk and sleep on the flight back to LA the next morning, and he’s also a little anxious. He’s still very fond of the life he lives in Ireland, and the prospect of actually starting a professional career is starting to scare him.

Niall walks into the bar and, like at the first party, there are people he knows filling every seat and standing in every corner. This time, though, Niall actually makes his way around the room, greeting and talking to everyone  _ before _ he gets shitfaced. He wants to remember this when he’s gone and all the pubs--the  _ bars _ \--he goes to aren’t filled with people he’s grown up with.

Niall chats and dances and drinks with anyone who stops him and anyone who he stops. It’s several hours into the party by the time he’s even got a buzz going in his head and an occasional stumble in his step. He’s still aware of what he’s doing and he’s genuinely not drunk yet when he feels a hand firmly yet carefully wrap over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Niall hums as he turns to look. His mouth drops open slightly as he is caught by surprise when someone’s lips make contact with his own.

Niall hums again as he tries to pull away to see who he’s kissing (‘cause really he wouldn’t mind spending the night with someone), but they’re very insistent on continuing this kiss. When the person hums, Niall thinks he recognizes who it is and opens his eyes (also, he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of doing that sooner).

“Come with me,” Harry mumbles against his lips, sliding his hand down Niall’s arm to grab at his hand and pull him away from the crowd.

“Petal, are you--” Niall doesn’t even know what he’s asking, so he cuts himself off before he starts fumbling with his words the way Harry starts fumbling with a set of keys when they reach the end of the hallway at the back of the pub.

“Fuckin’ keys,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he finally slides the right one into the lock and twists, pushing the door open as he does so. He drags Niall in behind him and hardly has time to close the door before he’s backing himself into it, making Niall chase by a hand on his hip.

“Harry, what’re you--”

“Stop,” Harry mumbles, cupping Niall’s neck in one hand to pull him closer, “I miss you.”

Niall feels a sudden surge of arousal as Harry guides him into another kiss, this one more expected and better planned than previously, and much hotter as well.

Harry’s kissing him with their lips tightly locked together at first, but it quickly turns feverish as he feels Niall’s knuckles slide across his stomach as Niall shuffles closer. Niall’s hands grab the fabric of Harry’s shirt tightly when Harry quickly draws him in, pressing their bodies as closely together as he can get Niall to comply with. His thigh ends up between Niall’s, and he moans softly in his throat when feels that Niall’s not as calm as he’s letting on.

Harry tests Niall’s resolve by rubbing his thigh gently between his legs, and he feels Niall’s grip on his shirt tighten.

“What are we doing?” Niall questions against Harry’s lips, hardly audible between their panting as they try to catch their breath.

“Hopefully getting off,” Harry responds, reaching both of his hands down to lift Niall’s shirt and start tracing his fingers against the top of his jeans. Niall’s breath hitches when Harry pops the button open and slowly drags the zipper down.

“Okay?” Harry asks, watching Niall’s expression carefully as he starts pushing the fabric down slowly.

“Yeah,” Niall sighs out as he nods quickly, “yeah, that’s,  _ fuck _ that’s good with me.”

Harry smirks as he looks down, both pleased with his control over Niall and also very eager to continue. He shuffles around Niall carefully, turning them so that Niall’s back is to the door instead, and Harry can sink down onto his knees in front of him.

Harry’s got Niall’s trousers and pants around his knees and his hand wrapped around Niall’s cock before Niall can even question if they should really be doing this. He stares down at Harry, watching as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out as he leans in, just pulling it back in before closing his mouth around Niall’s head. Niall immediately forgets why they haven’t done this sooner and the very real possibility of Harry’s very angry boyfriend coming after him.

Niall leans his head back against the door and  flutters his eyes closed, moaning softly while Harry suckles and leans in further, hollowing his cheeks. He stares up at Niall, waiting for him to open his eyes again and give him some sort of attention in return.

“Fuck,” Niall pants when Harry starts bobbing his head slowly, “my fucking  _ fuck _ .” Niall’s hands dart out to catch Harry’s head as he starts pulling back too far, purely for the fear of losing the amazing pressure Harry’s creating around him right now.

Harry hums and closes his eyes slowly when Niall grabs at his hair and tugs, guiding Harry’s face in closer towards Niall’s belly. He hums again, or maybe moans, when Niall scratches at his scalp when he gives a particularly good suck and lets Niall’s dick reach the back of his mouth. He can feel spit, or maybe that and a bit of precum, start leaking out of the corners of his mouth the longer he lets Niall maneuver his head and jerk his hips where he wants them.

It takes a while, but when Niall’s nearing his orgasm, he notices that Harry’s gotten himself out of his jeans and is stroking his cock at the same rhythm he’s using on Niall.

“Fuck, Haz,” Niall groans, feeling his knees start to shake, “you look so fucking hot like this.”

Harry moans softly and closes his eyes, knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he starts squirming. Niall can just make out that Harry’s getting as close as he is.

“You’re doing so good,” Niall slurs, “feels so fuckin’ good, petal. Are you gonna come with me?” Niall tugs on Harry’s hair and scratches at the roots harder than before when he asks, getting a louder moan out of Harry.

“Yeah? ‘M so close, ‘m gonna come in your mouth, H.” Niall’s hips jerk involuntarily, nudging his tip against the back of Harry’s throat, sending a shock through Niall’s system. He’s coming with a shout as Harry almost gags, pulling back just enough to keep Niall’s tip in his mouth and refrain from getting anything on his face.

“C’mon, love,” Niall pants as Harry licks him through his orgasm, “come. You did so fucking good, I want you to cum too.”

Harry nods while backing away from Niall’s tip, swallowing harshly as he gasps for breath.

“I’m gonna,” he whines, using his free hand to hold himself up as he hunches his back and leans forward.

“I, shit,” Harry pants, letting Niall’s name just slip past his lips as he comes, trying to aim his mess for the tiled ground between Niall’s feet and his own lap.

Niall pets Harry’s hair, moving it away from where it just starts to hang in view of his face.

“You did really well,” Niall says, internally cringing at his own words. He knows that some things sound better during sex than they do after, and that’s definitely one of those things.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles, carefully crawling backwards so he can get up without making his mess any bigger. Niall steps away from the small puddle on the floor as well, going further into the room to recognize it as a small lounge, complete with a kitchenette and a couch that looks really comfortable right about now.

“You can lay down if you want,” Harry mumbles as he stands and kicks off his boots as well as his trousers, “I know I’m going to in a second, just after I…” he trails off, not needing to say aloud that he’s going to clean his cum off the floor while reaching for paper towels and some sort of cleaning fluid.

“Sounds good,” Niall yawns, taking Harry’s lead to take off most of the clothes from his bottom half. He lays on the couch with his back to its back, waiting for Harry to come over and squeeze in front of him.

“Didn’t you say the other day that we still fit?” Niall whispers as Harry comes towards him.

“I,” Harry starts and stops, nodding slowly as he sits down with his back to Niall. “Yeah,” he lays down, “I did.”

“I think you’re right.” Niall wraps his arm around Harry’s side and holds him tightly, letting himself be squished between Harry’s back and the sofa. Neither of them say anything else, they just listen to each other breathe until Niall is lulled to sleep.

It’s around an hour later when Harry inadvertently sends Niall tumbling onto his stomach as he rolls off the couch, successfully waking him up despite his (poor) attempt at being careful.

“H?” Niall asks, rubbing his eye with the side of one hand while he props himself up with the other.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just finishes pulling his trousers up and starts looking around for his boots.

“Harry, where’re you goin’? What time is it?” Niall sits up now, most of the grogginess of sleep having been washed away already from Harry’s cold shoulder.

“It’s almost one,” Harry mumbles, leaning over to put his boots on, stumbling as he struggles to keep his balance. (Niall didn’t taste alcohol when he kissed Harry, so he reasons that Harry’s balance hasn’t improved any since he was younger. He looks like a baby deer with those long legs.)

“But where are you going?” Niall asks, standing up too, under the impression that they both needed to be going.

“Last call is in five minutes. You should be out by then.” Harry’s voice is tense and low as he grabs a coat off a hook in the corner and pulls it on quickly.

“What about--”

“Have a safe flight home.”

Harry turns and leaves the room then, letting the door close just hard enough to make Niall jump. As he’s standing there in nothing but a tshirt and socks, he feels not only vulnerable, but extremely confused.

Niall’s dressed and out the door a few minutes later as he hears the chatter and noise of the bar mellow, signaling that most people were heading home. He tries to leave the lounge as unsuspecting as possible so that he won’t get in trouble for being there, and Harry won’t be in trouble for  _ taking _ him there. He gets away with it unnoticed.

_ Why did Harry seem so upset when he left? _

Niall’s really bothered by this question as he walks home slowly, kicking pebbles and counting passing cars as he goes.  _ Harry _ took  _ him _ into the back room, and giving Niall a blow was  _ Harry’s _ idea, he wasn’t forced or tricked into doing anything he didn’t want to. Niall thinks it could be that Harry changed his mind as he was resting, or that--

_ Oh _ , Niall thinks,  _ Harry has a boyfriend. _

That’s what it is, then. Niall tells himself as he walks home that he shouldn’t have done anything with Harry knowing full well that Harry has someone--or, well... _ thinking _ Harry has someone. He hasn’t asked if Harry really is dating the guy he saw him with that first weekend home, but Niall just kind of assumes that they’re an item based on their interaction and Harry's actions thus far, like the averted kiss at the park and now his running away.

Niall gets back to Bobby’s at half past one and uses the key under the flowerpot beside the door to let himself in. He kicks off his shoes by the door then quietly treads to his room. He doesn’t bother getting undressed as he falls into bed, eyes already half shut and watery. He’s asleep within minutes.

Niall’s alarm goes off at five and Bobby’s at six--Niall still has to pack in the morning whereas Bobby only has to get dressed and drive Niall off to the airport.

Much like on their trip from the airport  _ to _ Bobby’s a couple of weeks prior, Niall thinks of Harry the whole way, hardly saying a word aloud unless prompted. When they pass the playground, Niall thinks of a few days ago when Harry was asking him how many times they’d be there and if he remembers some of the most monumental parts of their relationship as if Niall  _ wouldn’t _ know. He thinks now that Harry might have been asking to see if Niall is still into him, hence the sex a few days after, but he still can’t wrap his head around Harry’s reaction when he left the pub earlier.

When Niall’s walking away from his da at the airport terminal, he isn’t sure if the tears in his eyes are because he doesn’t want to leave, or because he’s too embarrassed to want to stay.

While he’s on the plane, he distracts himself in one of the only ways he knows how: he sleeps. And when he can’t sleep anymore and there’s still two and a half hours before he touches down at LAX, he writes in the back of his notebook a summarized version of his adventures of the past two weeks, and therefore, his and Harry’s “love story.”

It’s when there’s less than an hour left on his journey that he realizes his little story would make a good song, and it’s even later after that when he realizes he already knows the tune. It’s the same old tune he’s always played on his same old guitar.

Instead of buying into his manager’s playful banter when he picks him up from the airport, he says “I wrote a song, take me home and I’ll play it for you.”

“I was gonna take you home, anyway,” his manager says somewhat bewildered as Niall marches ahead of him towards the exit, “but I like this deal you’ve worked out without me.”

In the car on the way home, Niall sends Harry a text, but he never gets a response.

“ _ I wrote a song about you. _ ”

Two days later when he plays his song--something he’s affectionately called “This Town”--for the producer he got paired with at his new officially signed label, he says the same thing that his manager did:

“This has got to be your first single.”

And it is.

Niall’s really nervous at the prospect of working with professional writers to tweak the lyrics and get the message he really wants to convey out in the open. He’s also nervous about recording not only his voice, but his music. He’s nervous about his first single being as good as people actually say it is. It’s a part of his heart, of his  _ life _ that he’s putting out there, and he doesn’t want to blow his shot at a good first impression on the music world.

He finds himself getting comfortable in the studio though, and soon after his song is recorded and polished and ready to go, he records a live version in one take to serve as the music video that shows off not only the man behind the song, but also the raw vocal power he possess.

When the day comes, Niall shares the video on his Twitter and says he’s got something to share with his hundred thousand followers. His label also tweets it to their multi-million followers, and Niall watches as they promote it like crazy over the next couple of weeks, sending him up the Billboard charts, and growing his exposure like crazy.

A month goes by and he’s about to do his first live performance of “This Town” on late night television when he gets a text he hasn’t been expecting.

“ _ Good luck tonight. It’s a great song.x -H” _

He wonders if Harry has made the connection that it’s about him. He tries not to think about it as he gets called on stage for a brief interview and the most nerve-wracking performance he’s ever done. His voice shakes while he sings, but he doesn’t fuck up his playing, and he doesn’t forget any of the words. He’s got an adrenaline rush as he runs around backstage, hugging and taking congratulations from his small team of what he can now call friends in the business.

He doesn’t even think to text Harry back until the next morning.

“ _ you don’t have to sign your texts, I know it’s you,”  _ he sends, followed by  _ “thanks. _ ”

“ _ Is that the song about me?” _ Harry asks, never the one to miss a beat.

_ “can’t say it’s not. _ ” Niall feels nervous like he did the first time he texted Harry back in Ireland those couple of months ago. He chews on the callouses of his finger and wanders away from his phone for a bit to have a drink and calm himself down before he checks his phone again.

_ “how did I get such a beautiful song out of you?”  _ Niall isn’t sure if Harry is flirting, or if maybe he’s a bit pissed. He usually isn’t so blunt.

_ “don’t get cheesy on me, haz. it’s just a song.” _

_ “It’s a love song,” _ Harry shoots back immediately, and he’s not wrong. It is.

_ “yeah,” _ Niall says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

_ “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye before you left. _ ”

_ “you kinda did,” _ Niall sends as he chuckles to himself. Now  _ he’s _ the one who’s not wrong. He definitely counts a blowjob as a good goodbye, despite the weird after effects.

_ “not how I wanted, but I guess so.” _

_ “what happened there h?” _

It takes quite a while for a response to come through, which Niall doesn’t really mind. He knows he might be crossing lines by asking, still unsure of what happened with Harry and his maybe-boyfriend, but he just really wants to know.

_ “I just had to go.” _

_ “‘cause of your boyfriend?” _

Niall thinks he can almost hear the sigh that comes along with Harry’s next text.

_ “yeah, ‘cause of that. turns out no one likes being cheated on _ . _ ” _

Niall’s busying trying to type out a response when Harry sends another message.

_ “and I don’t mean me on him.” _

_ “oh, _ ” Niall sends lamely. He isn’t sure what else to say. He hasn’t been expecting to hear much about it, really.

_ “I didn’t want you to think you were a rebound or something, else I woulda told you sooner.” _

Niall doesn’t know if he would have thought that of himself if he knew that Harry’s boyfriend was cheating on him, but he doesn’t know that he  _ wouldn't  _ have thought that either. All he knows is that he’s glad he’s not in Ireland or else he might start asking around about who Harry was with and where he lives.

_ “i’m sorry that happened to you, h. you deserve better than that, always have.” _

_ “I miss you.” _

Niall breathes in deeply when he reads Harry’s text, unsure of where this is going and unsure of whether or not he’s dreaming.

_ “you know i miss you too. i wrote you a bloody love song didn’t i?” _

Niall’s heart is pounding. He can see that Harry is still into him, he’s not  _ completely _ oblivious, but he isn’t sure where this is going and he hopes to god he doesn’t scare Harry off.

_ “when are you coming home again?” _

_ “i havent a clue petal. ive got radio interviews and a few more performances to do out here, and then i gotta start work on my album.” _

_ “look at you sounding so professional, _ ” Harry says.  _ “well i’ve always wanted to visit LA.” _

“ _ i think you absolutely should.” _

(Three days later, Niall’s greeting Harry at the airport with the tightest hug and the sweetest kiss imaginable, and neither of them are at all surprised when Harry admits a week after that he doesn’t want to leave.)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](http://www.narryblossom.tumblr.com) on tumblr


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